2am
by procol harum
Summary: “I can take care of a kid, too, Tom. Probably a better job than you because I wouldn't be takin' him bowling or to a friggin' book store!”
1. 2am

**Title: **2am

**Characters/Pairing:** Doug Penhall, Tom Hanson

**Prompt: **#1 2am

**Rating:** K

**Warnings:** nope

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing

**Summary:** ___"I can take care of a kid, too, Tom. Probably a better job than you because I wouldn't be takin' him bowling or to a friggin' book store!"_

**A/N:** Couldn't think of a better title, so I used the prompt. And this is another for 64damnprompts. And this will probably be continued using another prompt. And, also, set around and about How Much is That Body in the Window? And also, for anybody reading, I will update Predator and Paper Wings soon, at least by the end of the weekend :D

"It's two in the morning!" Tom yelled into the phone angrily.

"Yeah, I know that" Doug replied, a bit taken aback by the sudden anger. "What's your problem?"

"You're my problem!" Tom yelled. "You screwed me over Doug. And now you won't stop calling me!"

"Well you won't listen!" Doug yelled back with his own anger. "And I already told you about that letter. You couldn't do the job you do if you've got some kid tagging along with you."

"Yeah?" Tom hissed. "And what makes you so damn sure?"

"Oh, so you're gonna listen this time?" Doug retorted bitterly. "Or are you just gonna hang up again?"

Tom sighed angrily and pushed himself into a sitting position. "No, I'm gonna listen," he replied slowly. "Because then you can shut up and leave me alone."

"Oh, well then," Doug muttered. "And I _have_ no damn sureness, just _common sense_. I mean, the kid'll be under ten, Hanson. You'll be expected to take him for ice cream and to ball games, not drug busts or the high school you're undercover in that day."

"You're such a fucking idiot!" Tom screamed, sounding like a hysterical school girl. After calming down, he added. "Do you really think I'd do that to a ten year old?"

"I didn't mean it-"

"No, Doug, listen to me," Tom cut in. "I actually know responsibility, got it? I'm not you, and I could actually do good for a kid. But you went and screwed everything up!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Doug hissed angrily, hurt by Tom's accusation. "I can take care of a kid, too, Tom. Probably a better job than you because I wouldn't be takin' him bowling or to a friggin' book store!"

"Are you done talking?" Tom muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "Because I sure as hell am. And don't you even think about calling me back, Doug."

"Don't get your hopes up, Hanson. No way I would wanna talk to you, anyways."

Doug slammed the receiver back into the cradle before Tom could respond, angered that his friend had said what he had. His intentions had been good, why couldn't Tom see that? Knowing that pursuing the issue any further would be useless, Doug downed the beer sat on his kitchen table before standing and heading back into his room. He was right, though, about the fact of not wanting to talk to Tom anymore. The only problem with that, though, was that he would have a hard time in avoiding the younger man later in the day when they were expected to be going undercover together.


	2. Lost Scene

Prompt #4 Lost Scene

A/N: I think slightly AU, although I just consider it that missing episode somewhere between HMITBITW and Christmas in Saigon. Continues from prompt 2am. Inspired by an ep of Will and Grace I watched. Something about Will being mad at Grace for something she did, thus making Karen and Jack lock them inside a bouncy thing a kid's b-day party. They made up ) and well, I got this:

The next day was tense, to say the least. Doug had shown up at the same time as Tom, and instead of their normal morning banter, Tom glared angrily at the other man before hurrying up the steps and disappearing behind the solid wooden door. Doug didn't care though; before that 2am phone call he might have, but now he found he couldn't care less if he were to find out Tom had been killed.

"Morning Tom," Judy called out to the other officer cheerily but Tom only ignored her, going straight to his desk and slumping down in his chair like a small child scolded and sent to time out. Doug entered moments later and received the same greeting as Tom had; Judy received the same response as Tom had given. Worried that something was wrong between the two – something about Doug's letter to the Big Brothers Association was her main guess -- she headed to Tom's desk, slouching over and resting her elbows upon the wooden surface. "You still mad at him?" she asked kindly, compassion in her tone and eyes. "He really is sorry; he must have apologized how many times?"

"I don't care," Tom muttered harshly. "Sorry can't fix what he did, alright? Now could you just leave me alone. Please?"

"Yeah, alright," Judy replied. "But you guys should really work this out, especially since you are undercover today. _Together_."

"Don't remind me," Tom replied angrily, looking towards Doug and glaring heatedly at his bowed head.

Judy nodded slowly before turning and heading back towards her own knowing that if Tom was as mad as he was, then talking to Doug would just gain the same, useless, response.

"Penhall! Hanson!" Fuller's sharp tone cut throughout the nearly empty chapel and both Doug and Tom sighed angrily – Tom adding in a few choice swear words – before standing and heading into their superior's office. Making it to the door at the same time, Tom glared before pushing past Doug roughly to gain entrance into the office. He sat in a chair placed in front of Adam's desk as elegantly as he had sat in his own minutes earlier.. Doug fell into the second positioned chair with less aggression as Tom, but with still enough force for the chair to tremble slightly and push back under his weight. Tom's had pushed back a good inch and nearly toppled.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" Fuller asked, eying his officers' suspiciously. "Because if there is, you had better resolve it for your case. We don't need screw-ups because of your arguments."

"No problem, sir," Tom replied hastily. "Right, Doug?"

Doug looked at Tom, voice masking the anger he wanted to show as he forced out as gently as he could: "No, no problem at all."

"Good. Now as you know, this case is top priority. I know you only started in there a couple of days ago, but you need to work faster. Two more students have died since you started, and we can't risk anymore."

"Yeah, sure thing, coach," Tom muttered. "We'll just contact a psychic and-"

"Tom!"

Tom glanced towards Doug, confused by the quick cut-in of his sentence. "What? You think rescuing from a slip-up here will make me forgive you?"

"No," Doug hissed. "But Fuller's right; this case is priority. And not meant to be joked about."

"Yeah, whatever." Tom looked towards Fuller. "We done here?"

"Yes. And you better get yourselves sorted out fast."

Tom nodded in response before standing, chair toppling to the floor as he pushed off of the wooden surface quickly. Muttering a quick, "sorry" towards Fuller, he leaned down and pulled the chair back up into its original position. Doug had already left the office. Tom followed suit and let out an angered shout as he was grabbed and pulled off towards the hallway.

"Damn it!" he shouted, "What the hell is this!"

"Sorry Hanson, but it's gotta be done."

"Blowfish!" Tom yelled incredulously, surprised by the strength in the older man as he was easily pushed towards the closet where they kept old files. Ioki and Judy stood outside, smiling amusedly as Tom was dragged towards them.

"What the hell is this?" Tom demanded angrily.

"I told you that you and Doug needed to sort things out," Judy offered simply. "And that is exactly what you two will be doing."

"Yeah," Ioki agreed. "You two are bringing the entire chapel down."

"I gotta go to school," Tom muttered weakly as he was pushed towards the now open door, afraid of what his co-worker's intentions were.

"Not for an hour, now get in there," Judy replied and Sal pushed Tom once more, the smaller stumbling weakly into the closet. He fell with a small thud as the door was shut behind him.

"God damn it!" he yelled when he heard the subtle click of the door being locked. "This isn't funny!" he shouted angrily at the closed door. It was dark in the room and he wasn't even sure that he had just shouted at the door, but the shouting itself was a good relief in stress. He stood hastily, stumbling in the dark, and moved forwards, hands outstretched. He reached the wall and moved along it carefully before finally finding the light switch. He flicked it upwards, sighing in relief as the room was flooded in a dim light.

Tom began pounding on the door, now able to see it, shouting and cussing at the wooden barrier and the officers beyond it.

"They're not gonna let us you know."

Tom jumped, nearly falling, as the voice resounded throughout the room behind him. He turned, glaring angrily as the room's only other occupant came into view. "Fucking great!" he shouted. "Why the hell are we here?"

"Because you hate me, and vice versa," Doug replied simply.

"I don't hate you."

"Really?" Doug questioned, mildly surprised.

"No. I just really, really, really dislike you right now," Tom replied, annoyed. "So they lock us in a fucking closet because of it?"

"Yup."

Tom sat down against the wall nearest the door heavily, crossing his legs in front of him. He began rubbing at his eyes then looked up as Doug sat in front of him.

"Do they even know you're claustrophobic?"

"What?" Doug asked. He was surprised that Tom had remembered this tiny shred of information, especially now.

"You are, right?" Tom asked. "I mean, you told me that. I think. I might be thinking of somebody else..."

"Oh no," Doug muttered. "Bein' here scares the shit outta me."

"Yeah?" Tom asked. Doug nodded. "Then, good," Tom added.

"Oh, that's great!" Doug shouted angrily. "For fuck's sake, Tom, I'm SORRY!"

"I KNOW THAT!" Tom yelled back. "But you still screwed me over, Doug. Sorry can't fix that, okay?"

"I was only trying to help," Doug whispered, hurt.

"I know that," Tom muttered. "I just. I was going to, I had it all figured out, alright? I talked to Amy, and she said she could set up so that I got my kid on weeknights, _after work_."

Doug looked guilty, like a child caught eating the last cookie. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never knew that."

"Yeah, well, now you do," Tom snapped. "And weekends, too. I coulda seen the kid then, too."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Doug asked. "I mean, why let me just that write that. You shoulda known I'd try and stop you."

"No, actually, I didn't," Tom whispered. "You're my _best friend_. I had expected you to write somethin' positive."

"Shit," Doug muttered. "I really did screw things up then, huh?"

"Yeah. But I guess you were right," Tom replied. "I mean, this job scares me. I don't know how I ever thought I could raise a kid right after dealing with all this shit. It'd be the same as just bringing him to the damn school with me."

"No way," Doug argued. "You woulda let it slide, man. I mean, you wouldn't let your life interfere with that of a ten year old's, right?"

"I don't know..."

"Oh come on!" Doug yelled, slightly excited. "I mean, for as long as I've known you, you, you have been the master at keeping your emotions inside."

"Oh thanks," Tom muttered, glaring at Doug.

"No," Doug hissed. "I mean, this kid coulda helped you as much as you coulda helped him, I think. I don't know why I wrote that crap. I'm sorry."

"You think so?"

"Think what?"

"That I could have helped a kid?"

"Of course you could!" Doug exclaimed. "You're Tommy frigging Hanson! You help _everybody!_"

Tom smiled, then leaned over and hugged Doug. "Thanks," he whispered. Tom pulled away, surprised by the look of shock spread across Doug's face. "For this," he explained. "And for writing that letter, too, because I know what you said sucked, but I think a kid _would_ have been too much work."

"No problem, then," Doug replied. "Friends?"

"No," Tom replied and Doug frowned. "I mean," Tom added. "_Best _friends, not just friends.."


End file.
